


Bask in Sunshine

by Angel_In_Soho



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Breakfast, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Look it's really fluffy there is no ounce of angst at all, M/M, Morning Kisses, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seriously it's just very cute and all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_In_Soho/pseuds/Angel_In_Soho
Summary: Crowley wakes up and realizes a few things.





	Bask in Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something purely fluffy, the one that would make me smile all the time. I realized that they've never really gotten breakfast before, so-- here it is. 
> 
> Shout-out to my friend-slash-somekinda-beta reader, Ellie, if you're out there, thanks for reading this at 3 am lmao

Sunlight was Crowley’s friend.

The Sun—a star, and stars were absolutely always  _ fascinating— _ was the center of this system, and the Earth revolves around it once a year. It brought about his favorite season, which was spring, because it breathed life into his plants and every type of flora he’s seen around. It was the right temperature, not too cold nor too warm. It brought him warmth when the days were cold.

It was also the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

Granted, he takes grand periods of sleep sometimes, or just the human duration of eight to ten hours. Little naps in between, yes, but he’s always found himself to wake up in the morning, either in the Bentley or in his home—in his throne, or on his bed.

Thus, this morning brought several revelations.

-

1.

The first one was that he woke up in a  _ very  _ different area. Not his house. Not his flat. Certainly not the backseat of his Bentley. It was—it smelled a bit too  _ heavenly.  _ And it was a bit too comfortable than he would usually make his bed to be. So, it was rational of him to have a mild freak-out when he understood where he was, despite his head not being the brightest after a night of slumber.

No, this reminded him of a homey room, the ones where writers describe as  _ old but alive, kind, cared.  _ This area exuded something that might be love, since demons don’t feel love. Crowley himself wouldn’t even be able to detect it if it wasn’t for a certain being, a being who embodied the concept of love that he might as well have chosen to introduce it to him up front.

He detected the feeling of love around him, and he flushed in surprise.

_ Aziraphale,  _ he finally surmised. Involuntarily, he tucked himself further into the bed.  _ I’m on Aziraphale’s bed. _

-

2.

The second was that he most definitely did something wrong last night.

Not the type of wrong that angels consider—that would be  _ right,  _ in a demon’s eyes, and right was wrong. No, this was the wrong that demons nor angels nor humans should not do, and it is where he failed last night.

The memories of yesterday filtered in his thoughts slowly, each one more vivid than that of the last. Their successful switch, their talk on the bench; their lunch at the Ritz, and… Aziraphale bringing him to his small house outside London. The way how the angel tutted at him for not telling him that he had been exhausted the whole time because the switch had taken something out of him, while Aziraphale was still full of energy.

He remembered bickering with the angel. Then the angel didn’t have any of it and then—then the angel raised his eyebrow and said,  _ oh, let me tempt you.  _ He had lifted his hand to Crowley’s chest and pushed him downwards. On the bed.

Tempting him to _bed_ was what Aziraphale meant. Crowley should’ve kicked himself for being so forward and falling to the wily words of his friend. He remembered the silly grin the angel sported for tricking him. _It seems like my side did win after all, you exhausted demon._

_ On our side,  _ he had protested, yawning. It seemed to make Aziraphale’s grin wider.  _ I hate you. _

Then, he could vaguely remember a tingle on his lips, without his reciprocation, because he was dead to the world at that moment.

Over several millennia he had wanted to kiss the blond-haired angel—and he wasn’t even coherent enough to remember!  _ You’re a stupid fool, Crowley,  _ he berated himself, mortified.

Maybe that was the reason why the angel wasn’t beside him. He was  _ sure  _ that he was beside him when he fell asleep. He was  _ sure  _ that Aziraphale had been smiling at him (or he’d like to imagine to, if his hazy recollection provided truth) and wasn’t annoyed by him.

_ That’s certainly was what it was, right?  _ He thought apprehensively, cracking an eye open, slowly. He still wasn’t sure what to feel this morning.

-

3.

For all of his panicking, the third one brought him out of his thoughts and into the outside world. There was an  _ aroma  _ filtering into the room, and he took out his tongue to determine what it was: it tasted a bit like scrambled eggs, potatoes, and mushrooms. A hint of oil, onion, garlic, and different herbs he can’t place. Then, the smell of bacon.

He was never a food person, but he  _ definitely  _ liked food. He liked eating, though it wasn’t his area. That was Aziraphale, the angel appreciating the intricacies of flavor and design melting in his mouth. Crowley was more of a one-gulp being, as he was a Snake and snakes tended to feed in one bite.

However, he would just say that dining with Aziraphale has definitely brought him to a level of understanding and appreciation for cooking; dining at the Ritz tended to show that. People with blowtorches for crème brulees and crepes prepared on their side was a testament to that, and Aziraphale always tended to watch how they cook.

The angel probably took himself to cooking some time ago; it was bound to happen.

He blinked, and then sat up; the smell was  _ food  _ being  _ cooked. _

His mouth dropped open—Aziraphale was probably cooking breakfast, in the kitchen. At this exact moment—for the  _ both  _ of them.

-

4.

The fourth realization followed immediately after that: they never had a meal together in the morning before, and certainly not one that  _ Aziraphale  _ created.

_ I should tell him I don’t like eating this early,  _ he thought as he shifted a little in bed.  _ He won’t be mad but he’s going to be grumpy if I don’t even sample a snack from his work. _

_ …Does he even get grumpy in the early morning? _

He shuffled downwards, and miracled himself clothes as he stretched into an impossible angle. He went to the opposite room—where the kitchen was—and indeed, he saw that Aziraphale  _ was  _ cooking. And not merely heating an English breakfast. He was also wearing an  _ apron!  _ Who even wore aprons in normal kitchen settings?

He was also humming a tune that Crowley was  _ pretty  _ sure was Queen’s, and try as he might, he couldn’t remove the smile on his face. Seeing the angel so free from any ounce of stress (and in a different setting, other than the St. James bench, or in the Ritz, or in the bookshop) was so _new._ If he was able to see this every morning, well, he was sure to love it now. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have more breakfasts if this is what he’d always get to see.

Of course, that was the time when the angel turned around, and well—it wasn’t like he’d calm his expression so fast.

“Oh goodness—“, Aziraphale exclaimed, pan in hand, bacon sizzling. Despite the surprise, the angel was terribly composed. “Crowley!”

The angel had a really happy grin, and he waved his spatula with his left hand. “Good morning! I made breakfast!”

-

5.

The fifth realization involved how normal this was, that they were spending time together in the morning, having breakfast, without any pretense of danger of being caught or reprimanded.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Angel.” He thought as he slid over the counter. The angel predictably clicked his tongue in a second-reprimand, but nothing more than that. It made Crowley grin; it was practically a signal to be as free as he could be. “Smells lovely.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale tilted the accumulated oil to the sink. “I’ve been practicing for more intricate meals, but I wanted to make something simple and something I knew with the back of my hand.” He scraped the bacon off the pan and put it on the plates on the dining table. “Such as those chefs I’ve watched in several restaurants. Tada!”

He looked so proud of himself. Crowley thought it was endearing, and now he felt like the biggest jerk in the created universe, because how can he say  _ no  _ to that face? To those bright eyes?

Aziraphale cocked his head, as if hearing his internal monologue. “Yes?”

He worked his jaw.  _ To be a jerk or not to be. That is the question.  _ He tried to school his face, but to no avail. “Er… how do I say this…?” He mumbled.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming around his face. Then, his lips stretched into an understanding smile. “Oh, I haven’t exactly invited you to breakfast before, haven’t I? Do you not eat breakfast?”

He looked at him in surprise. “How’d you know that? “

“Dear boy,” he softly chuckled, removing his apron and hanging it on one of the hooks installed on the side of the refrigerator. “Your eyes go fully yellow when you’re distressed, and you've been staring at the food for a while. You can tell me anything.”

_ Oh,  _ he thought, relaxing but also tensing at the same time. He hadn't conjured his sunglasses, as the angel pointed out to him. _Aziraphale is really clever, isn't he._ _He must've noticed the second he saw me, since it comes with my usual outfit._

He was  _ that  _ comfortable this time; and for Aziraphale not to point it out, meant that it was alright with the angel as well. It baffled him, but also made him glad. It just showed how much he trusted the angel-- not that he ever doubted him, but now it was truly cemented in his mind.

He shook his head, knowing his decision.

"I don't really it breakfast?” He said rather truthfully. Before the angel could react, he was already going down the counter.  “But I’d definitely try your cooking…” he murmured, pulling a chair and sitting. He looked at his plate and shrugged, putting food on it. He pretended not to hear Aziraphale's little chuckle. 

He refused to down it in one go, of course, because even if he didn’t like breakfast, Aziraphale had cooked it for him.

-

6.

It took a few minutes before Crowley realized that Aziraphale was probably lost in his thoughts, because the angel hadn’t halved his food yet.

“Angel?” He tentatively asked, cutting his last bit of bacon. He marveled at it for a second; it was cooked just how much he liked the meat he consumed. A bit on the raw side. It wasn’t lost to him that Aziraphale had obviously cooked two batches of bacon, and he was even prouder of himself for not backing down from eating breakfast. If only it took him more than fifty seconds to eat the whole plate (and that was the slowest he could get). “Are you alright?”

Aziraphale looked at him, with a look that Crowley couldn’t figure out, before morphing into a bright smile.

“Yes! Yes, jolly good.” he said, hurriedly eating the rest of his breakfast. “Sorry, sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“You looked quite lost, yes.” He nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Ah,” the angel spoke, a blush tinting his cheeks. He patted his mouth clean. “Well, I was just marveling on how—“, he paused, before continuing with so much affection that Crowley felt physically pinned onto his seat, “—you are absolutely the most wonderful being I have ever known.”

He blinked, putting down his fork. He could feel his cheeks redden without his bidding, which,  _ stop it.  _ “That came out of nowhere, Angel! What—?“

“I believe you were quite half-asleep when I kissed you,” Aziraphale said resolutely, and  _ oh, he was going over. _

Aziraphale cupped his face gently and pressed a kiss on his nose. Then, he tilted his chin back and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, and Crowley’s eyes closed without meaning to. His hands involuntarily brought themselves up on the angel’s shoulders, and he could feel the warmth that radiated naturally from the angel’s holiness.

He basked in this feeling of being loved, with so much affection wrapping around them together.

Aziraphale pulled back, and Crowley slowly opened his eyes. When he did, he was met with the most breathtaking sight he’d ever laid eyes upon—the most beautiful smile Crowley had ever seen on anyone.

“My dear.” Aziraphale greeted, full of love, care, and a light feeling that warmed Crowley all over. His eyes were bright, full of love, and all of it directed at Crowley, who seemed to draw strength from Aziraphale to kiss him one more time.

And, that was the sixth realization. In this kitchen, eating their first breakfast together, and hopefully more to come-- that his Angel was the Sun, whom he revolves around, the center of his system; that he was the one that brought his favorite season into light, because Aziraphale loved greeting flowers and plants; he was the warmth that he sought out even if they were on opposite sides. He was the comfort of belonging, the strength of believing again in something.

Aziraphale was the Sun, and he wanted the Angel to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

“You utterly sweet demon of mine,” Aziraphale murmured against his lips. Crowley had all but melted into his touch. “Good morning, my dear.”

-

Crowley closed his eyes, thinking that  _ yes,  _ sunlight was his friend, and he would always be happy to have it around.

But, as he basked in the first rays of sunshine, hand-in-hand with his Angel— he  _ just _ knew that Aziraphale his lifelong-love.

(And if he had to experience a hundred more breakfasts, he would gladly take them. )

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! You can find me at @artist-in-space in Tumblr if you ever want to talk and shout about Good Omens, because that's a mood. 
> 
> Your responses would be greatly appreciated :D


End file.
